Young Hearts, Out Our Minds
by liesmyth
Summary: Modern AU: five times Jon Snow wished he had a normal mother, but still loved her anyway. Or, Lyanna Stark's single parenting. [COMPLETE]
1. The time they moved to France

Born in twenty minutes of a caffeine overdose, and a desperate attempt to have an excuse not to study. Title from Ke$ha - no, seriously.  
>Also, unbeta'd.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>1. the time they packed up everything and moved to France<strong>

"Paris," Jon told his mother, flatly. "Paris."

Lyanna nodded. "Yep." She grinned at him and moved in closer, raising one hand to mess up his hair. "Trust me, kiddo, it'll be awesome."

Jon flinched. He was thirteen years old, desperate to grow up and still too scared to really embrace it; and he was too busy figuring out life without having to deal with his mother's crazy antics. Or her stupid habit to touch his hair.

"Fine," he went back to his pizza, taking a bite. It was good enough, Jon thought, but that was mostly because he was hungry. He supposed it was as they said – once you taste real, Italian pizza, no other kind will ever be enough. Especially British pizza.

"Hey mum?" he asked; and Lyanna turned to give him a glance from behind her sunglasses.

"What?" Lyanna had refused to eat anything, claiming she couldn't afford to go up a dress size; and she was now stealing longing looks at Jon's pizza. It was painful to watch, seriously.

"When are we leaving? Do we have time to go back to the hotel?" The last time, when they'd left for Amsterdam in a whim, Jon hadn't had enough time to pack all of his things and had to have them mailed home. Not an experience he'd care to repeat.

She gave him a strange look. "Of course, Jon, we need to go back home first, you know. Pack our things, have 'em mailed –"

"Wait."

"Wait," Jon repeated. "What?"

He stopped walking all of a sudden, felt the weight of someone slamming into his back. Next to him, his mother glared. "Seriously, Jon. I told you like a thousand times. We're going to Paris next week."

Jon loved his mother; he really, really did. Still, some times he wanted to kill her; and, worse, he was quite sure she knew it. I bet she enjoys it.

"I got that," he snapped. "How long are we staying?"

Lyanna shrugged. "I don't know," she said, looking away. "We'll see. I signed for a year's lease."

"I have school," Jon told her, knowing perfectly how useless it would be. "I can't leave."

"You know, sweetie," she took off her glasses to stare at him, with eyes so perfectly like Jon's own. "I'm pretty sure they have schools in France, too."

"Mum!"

They had been living in Penrith, Cumbria for almost five days by that point. They had been living in Devon before that, and in California when Jon had been younger – so young, in fact, that he couldn't even remember how LA had looked like. Not that he particularly wanted to. Busy, probably.

Penrith wasn't busy at all. They lived in the middle of nowhere, Jon liked to think, but it was a terribly romantic nowhere to live, which suited Lyanna's character just fine. The town was pretty, the weather was unremarkable, the sights were heartbreakingly beautiful; and that was all that there was to it. Lyanna travelled often for work and to satisfy her restless spirit; but Jon stayed at home more often than not, never minding the solitude much. It was, he'd told Lyanna once, actually relaxing.

She had laughed at that. You're moody, she'd said. Being all teenage-y. It's so cute.

Then again, she had been dating some emo German singer at the time, so of course she would think he was cute. That had been one year ago, and Lyanna had since broken up with the singer, gotten purple highlights, and almost bought a dog.

And now Paris.

"I'm pretty sure they speak French in France, mum," Jon told her. "And I'm pretty sure I don't."

She winked at him. "You're smart. You'll manage."

In the end, he did. It turned out he kind of remembered French from the summer they'd spent in Nice two years before, and school was out for a couple of months anyway, which wasn't that bad. Lyanna had actually already enrolled him which was… surprising, he decided. He hadn't even suspected his mother remembered how to.

They had a flat that was as ridiculously posh as it was tiny, with a balcony even; and everything was exactly as quaint as he'd expected it to be. Lyanna, of course, loved it.

"I loved the views," she told Jon, some six weeks into their new life. "Isn't it lovely? And the people, the food, the wine… you can't get this stuff in America, y'know."

"Well," he answered, "it's not like I'd know."

He tried to look appropriately sad at that, to make some suffering face; but she just laughed, and Jon gave her a glare. Thirteen is a shitty age, Jon concluded silently to himself, when your mother doesn't take you seriously.

"Trust me, you're not missing out on anything." She moved one hand, but Jon took a step back before she could even come close to his hair. "Hey, you wanna come with me to work? I can introduce you around."

Jon figured he had nothing better to do, and shrugged. "I guess."

"Good."

They left, and went out for dinner after that. Lyanna did introduce him around, and ten days later he'd gotten a girlfriend. A French girlfriend. Life, Jon decided, was good.

Ten days after that, Lyanna found out; and Jon wondered if it was possible to die of embarrassment.

It turned out that it wasn't.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Next one up<span>****: **the time Lyanna gave Jon _The Talk_ (and still didn't tell him who his father was).


	2. The time Lyanna gave Jon The Talk

**2. the time Lyanna gave Jon ****_The Talk_**** (and still didn't tell him who his father was)  
><strong>

Movie night at the Snows' was on Sundays; every Sunday, like clockwork. Unless Lyanna wasn't away, or abroad; in which case they had Skype and movie streaming.

Still, whatever happened, on Sundays they watched movies. Any movie, every kind, but somehow, they always ended up watching _Chocolat_ at least once a year. Lyanna liked Johnny Depp – because; she said, who wouldn't? – even though Jon, for his part, hated the movie, though there was a line he enjoyed all the same. It went like this: there was a little girl, who grew up with only her mother. One day someone asked her why she didn't have a father, and the girl said, _Sure I do, we just don't know who he is_.

Jon figured the same thing went for him, except that he was sure Lyanna _knew_.

She just liked being annoying.

But it didn't matter much in the long run. The point was, to Jon, another one, and pretty obvious: Lyanna had absolutely _no business_ giving him the speech about safe sex. None whatsoever.

Not that she had even tried to – at least, not until Ygritte. Jon was thirteen going on fourteen by the time he met her, and had almost started to think that maybe – just maybe – his mother would avoid the whole embarrassing thing; until the day Lyanna arrived back home one day early to find the television on and her son snogging some redhead on the couch.

To her credit, Lyanna was cool about it. She was always cool, one of the things Jon liked most about her, acting more like an older sister than a mother unless the situation desperately called for her to be responsible. This time it didn't, and Lyanna slipped into her big sis mode.

That's to say, she laughed.

It was a high, full laugh, the kind that in Jon's experience always went with _disaster_. The two froze, Jon letting out a sigh and closing his eyes slowly, face flushed; and Ygritte frowning in surprise at Lyanna's reaction – she looked positively close to squealing.

"You're adorable," Lyanna said, and Jon groaned.

She grinned at him, and held one hand out to Ygritte. "Hey there, I'm Lyanna. Jon's mom."

The redhead had, well, red hair, long enough to brush halfway through her back, and was wearing black leggings and boots, and a green tank top so bright it almost hurt the eyes. Her smoky makeup was perfect, Lyanna noticed, approvingly.

"Ygritte," the girl said; not really managing to hide her surprise as she looked from Jon to Lyanna, and back again.

"I know," Lyanna gave out a theatrical sigh. "I was very young, and stupid."

Jon made to speak at that, so Lyanna interrupted him before he could open his mouth. "I'm going to unpack now," she said. "I'll see you later."

Lyanna was closing the door to her bedroom when she heard Ygritte's voice. "Wait, was that… Jon, is your mother _Lyanna Snow_?"

She smiled to herself. _Poor kid_.

Ygritte was gone by the time they had dinner, and Jon looked so uncomfortable it was hilarious to watch.

"So."

"So."

Lyanna kept staring at him, and Jon glared at his plate. "Ygritte," he said, as if she hadn't already gotten that part. "A friend of Munda's, she introduced us last month."

Munda was one of the make-up artists Lyanna had worked with, and halfway between Lyanna's age and Jon. "I see," she said. "How old is she?"

Jon mumbled something that might have sounded like, "seventeen." Then again, it might have been '_eighteen_'. Lyanna raised one eyebrow, a talent it had taken her years to perfect.

Still, it was worth it. "I see," she repeated. "High five?"

He looked disgusted for a while, then smiled. "You know," he said, way too cheerfully for someone who'd just gotten busted like he had. "Ygritte likes your movies."

Lyanna was going to end it there, she really was. Nevermind what Jon thought of her, she didn't particularly enjoy embarrassing him – not that it wasn't nice watching him squirm. Still, she _was_ going to stop, really, but he asked for it.

"Oh really?" she asked, delighted. Good to know the girl had good tastes. "Which ones? It's _Escape_, right?" Ygritte had looked like someone who'd enjoy it. A rebel without a cause kind of girl.

"Nah," Jon shook his head, smiling wide, and _then_ she knew. "Not the indie crap. She likes _Winter Rose_."

The little _shit_.

It was their second most important family rule, right between 'Don't break the law' and 'Don't return Uncle Brandon's calls unsupervised'. _Don't talk of Winter Rose_ – it wasn't that hard to remember, was it? And yet Jon had done it anyway.

_That_ was when Lyanna smiled at him, sickly sweet.

"Tell me Jon," she began. "Have you guys had sex yet?"

And _that_ was when he choked on his food. _You started it, kiddo_.

"Mum!"

"What?" Lyanna said. "I asked you a question. Because if you haven't then I'm still in time to explain you some things, but if you did have then I absolutely _have_ to explain you some things…"

"Can we talk about something else?" Jon asked. "Anything else?"

"But really, Jon," she continued, ignoring him. "You have to be careful. Because if you aren't then you might get –"

"– Really, mum?"

"– herpes," she concluded. "Or AIDS, or hepatitis, but Ygritte probably doesn't have those." Lyanna paused, giving Jon time to almost relax, before she spoke once again. "Also, you might get a girl pregnant, which I don't think you are ready to deal with at your age."

"I'm ignoring you," Jon said, firmly. "You can say whatever you want, I'm not listening."

"You really should, because it's important," Lyanna told him, making sound as if it actually _was_. Jon frowned at the sudden seriousness, leaning in closer. "You need to know this, Jon" she began, firmly.

"Porn is all fake."

_If looks could kill_.

"Okay, stop it here," Jon said. "Really, stop."

Lyanna shrugged. "Okay, sure." She had gotten her hands on Jon's laptop a year or so ago and bookmarked some well-done, educational websites, and she was positive Jon had read everything and understood what he needed to know. Still, his _face_…

"I think it was enough," she told Jon. "Want anything else? Fruit? Cake?"

"I hate you," he stared at her, arms crossed; the very picture of teenage sufferance. "So much."

Lyanna nodded at him. "Mmmh," it was all she said. "Sure."

* * *

><p><em>Note:<em> yep, Lyanna's last name is Snow – that, as well as her back story, will be explained. Next one up: the time Uncle Brandon got Jon a pet husky.


	3. The time Uncle Brandon came to visit

**3. the time Uncle Brandon came to visit and got Jon a pet husky**

Jon had been fourteen when Uncle Brandon had decided he needed a dog.

Of course, it hadn't been as simple as that. Lyanna had said no, for a start, that they had no space and you couldn't keep a dog in an apartment and _she didn't want a dog_, period; and by the time Jon had managed to change her mind Brandon had already went back to… wherever he lived, really. Jon had no idea.

All in all, it was the Christmas after _that_ when Jon finally got his long-awaited dog, and he had been fifteen for a while. Uncle Brandon had shown up unexpected a couple days earlier than he'd said he would arrive, with a small Siberian Husky that Jon immediately named Ghost.

Brandon thought it was an awesome name, and Lyanna made a sound that was, to Jon, suspiciously like a snort. She was at the moment dating a French movie director Jon personally couldn't stand, a wiry young man with a permanent stubble who self-identified as an _existentialist artist_.

(Jon couldn't wait until they broke up. He'd had the whole uplifting speech planned since week two.)

"It's _white_," Lyanna pointed out, as if it were a bad word. "White."

"He," Jon said. "And I can see that. That's why I called him _Ghost_, you know."

"And this is why we'll find the house full of hair, you know." Jon only rolled his eyes at that, but Brandon smiled. "Which _I_'ll have to clean up, and –"

"Hey, Lya," Uncle Brandon asked, still smiling. Wider. He'd made himself at home in the living room, sprawled on the couch in front of the television. "Since when you _clean_?"

"She doesn't," Jon said. "We have a cleaning service in twice a week."

Brandon laughed, and Lyanna glared at the both of them. "Since you did even _ring_ to say you'd come," she told her brother. "You can help me make dinner."

They went into the kitchen, leaving Jon to play with his new dog. Ghost had been the sixth of a litter, Uncle Brandon had said, and the only one he hadn't still found a home for. Lyanna had said it was the weakest excuse he could have come up with.

"You have a _daughter_," she had pointed out. "Girls love pets."

But it had turned out that Brandon and his family were having a _no_ moment, which had made Lyanna laugh and let Jon even more perplexed thinking about all the cousins he kept forgetting he had.

Uncle Brandon wasn't married, Jon knew it, but he had a daughter with his long-term on-again-off-again girlfriend (which was somewhat of a contradiction, but Brandon didn't seem to be aware of that) Ashara Dayne. The cousin's name was Allyria, and she was about Jon's age and very pretty – he knew that, because he'd seen the picture, so he was _sure_ Allyria and Ashara Dayne existed.

The same couldn't be said about the rest of his mother's family.

"So," Brandon asked, starling Jon._ Where _the hell_ did he come from?_

"What's up?"

Jon blinked in confusion. "What?"

"With the long face," he clarified. "What's going on?"

Jon shrugged. "Nothing much."

"Go set the table, Jon," Lyanna said, stepping out from the kitchen. Then, to Uncle Brandon. "Don't torture the poor boy, Brandon. His girlfriend just broke up with him."

"Ah," Brandon said, with far too much sympathy for Jon's tastes. "You'll love little Ghost, then."

Jon didn't really get the connection. "Excuse me," he told both Brandon and Lyanna. "_I_ broke up with _her_. And I'm perfectly fine."

"Of course you are, Jon," Uncle Brandon said, as if Jon were a five years old child. "Of course you are."

Jon suffered in silence.

Brandon wouldn't shut up after that, asking one question about Ygritte after the other. "You know," Jon told him, after the fifth or sixth time. "If I was _really_ heartbroken, what you're doing would be exceptionally mean."

"Like you aren't," Lyanna said, sounding more cheerful that she had any rights to be. Brandon looked from his sister to his nephew, frowning.

"Am I missing something?" he asked.

"Nothing much," Jon said. "Mom didn't like Ygritte."

Brandon laughed. "That's _hilarious_. Like she has any ground to –"

"– _Ygritte_ likes Winter Rose!" Lyanna interrupted; and Brandon laughed even more.

"A lot of people do –" he began; but his sister cut him off once again.

"Yes, but they are stupid people. People with bad tastes. Not the kind of people I want dating my son, thank you."

Brandon just grinned. "This is so cute," he told Jon. "You can't imagine _how much_."

"Can we please move on to something else?" Lyanna asked. "_Anything_ else."

Jon turned his head to look at Ghost, standing exactly where he'd left him, beautiful just like Brandon had said it would be, pelt white as snow. He flinched at that. _There's an horrible pun in here somewhere_.

"I think me and Ghost are going to take a walk," he said, pushing the empty plate aside. "So you guys can gossip about whoever."

"That's wonderful, Jon," Lyanna gave him a smile. "I wanted to kick you out, but it would've been rude."

Jon rolled his eyes and went punt on a jacket, but he was only halfway out of the door when he heard his mother's voice again. "He hasn't gotten out of the house in _days,_ it's would be cute if it weren't so damn sad –"

Jon closed the door firmly behind him.

Having a dog was _wonderful_, he decided that evening. Having Ghost was awesome – the husky seemed to understand Jon's every thought, no need for words; and it was _great_.

Lyanna and Brandon had cleared the table by the time he got back – thankfully, Jon thought, because Uncle Brandon's feet were where his plate had been. They were sharing a bottle of wine and gossiping about people Jon had never heard of, the way the always did; and Jon found terribly fascinating.

What was different was the smell.

"Please," he said, the moment he stepped foot inside. "Please tell me you aren't high."

_There should be some sort of law_, Jon decided darkly, _forbidding parents to have more fun than their kids did_.

"It's incense," Uncle Brandon said, indignant, "hello, I came here on a _plane_. Do you think I'm _crazy_?"

_Ah_. "Are you, like, a Buddhist now?" he asked. It sounded like something Uncle Brandon would do. Lyanna laughed.

"He said Stannis Baratheon's new girlfriend talked him into it," she said, as if Jon even _knew_ who Stannis Baratheon was. "Hey, kiddo, you wanna some?"

Jon nodded, and it was Brandon's turn to laugh. "How come I can't smoke and you are serving alcohol to a minor?"

His sister gave him a disgusted look. "Because it's half a glass. And _France_, no one cares." She gave out a theatrical sigh. "Because the no-approach worked so _well_ with us."

"You know," Brandon said, frowning. "They say that Jon Connington joined the AA."

_And here they go_. Jon suspected he wouldn't have enjoyed Brandon's stories half as much if he'd actually _knew_ these people, because the stories were so much better. These people were all crazy.

"I fail to see the link between my son having half a glass of wine and Jon Connington and the AA." Lyanna said.

"I was just saying," Brandon complained.

Jon took a sip, grinning at his uncle as he did it.

"Hey, that reminds me," the older man continued. "He got his old job back, you know. Connington. Old Aerys made him CEO again."

Jon went to get a chair for himself to sit, and his mother laughed. "Poor Jon, he should've said no. Aerys's got a son to torture."

"No, he doesn't," Brandon said. "He went into politics, or something."

Lyanna laughed even louder. "You mean, they actually allow divorced people in public office now? I thought it was _bad for image_."

It was like a pin-pong match, Jon decided, eyes darting between his mother and his uncle. Brandon frowned. "He's not divorced," he said, "there was talk, but that was years ago."

"You're so behind, Lya," he continued, and Lyanna shrugged. To Jon's eyes, she looked a little sad.

"Who's getting divorced?" he asked, curious.

"No one!" Brandon said, at the same time as Lyanna.

"A friend of your uncle's girlfriend," she said; and, next to her, Brandon grinned.

"Hey, speaking of girlfriends," he began. "Listen to this. There's Robb, you know, Ned's boy, and last spring –"

"– we're not talking about Ned, Brandon," Lyanna said.

_Damn_, Jon thought. From the way his uncle had been grinning, that would've been one hell of an awesome story.

"But –"

"– we're not talking about Ned," she repeated; and that was the end of it.

"Whatever."

Uncle Brandon gave Jon a dramatic eye-roll. "Women," he told Jon. "Hey, kid, let's go bring Ghost's basket to your room."

"Sure," Jon said him, leading the way. Once they were both inside, door locked, he tuned to his uncle once again.

"So," Jon asked. "What about this Robb?"

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> next one up, the time that… well, the most awkward day of Jon's life, to date. (Or, Lyanna is an actress, and Jon _hates_ it.)


	4. The time that: worst date ever

**4. the time that: worst date ever**

After Ygritte, Jon dated Val.

Ygritte was the reason why they met in the first place, because Val moved in into the tiny flat Ygritte vacated when she left town; and Val friended Jon on facebook to send him a message where she sayid that she'd found a book of Jon's lying around.

(Jon wondered if he should think it weird that his ex-girlfriend was the reason why he hooks up with his current one; but he was too busy feeling flattered that Val actually tracked him down from the scrawled name written inside the cover. It must be destiny, he decided; and left it at that.)

Val was blonde and pretty and managed to look glamorous even in her cheap student's clothes. She was about Ygritte's age, even though the difference got less noticeable now than it had been when Jon was thirteen, so it was actually a while before it came out. They had already gone on two dates by then, so Val just laughed it off and they promptly forgot again.

She was a polisci major, third year; took her coffee black, with only a dash of milk to cool it down; ate mostly whole foods; and was emphatically _not_ a vegetarian (her exact words to Jon in that regard were 'why would _anyone_ go their whole life without steaks?'). Val also liked art, a _lot_, modern paintings that looked so weird to be vaguely nauseous, experimental music genres Jon didn't even know _existed_, and the sort of art house films that Lyanna liked.

Actually, Jon realized, Val likes the sort of art house films Lyanna _was in_.

_Kill me now_, he thought when he saw the DVD covers among the others in Val's collection; but the topic never came out and they weren't really at the 'meet the parents' stadium yet, so whatever.

So life went on; and he and Val had been dating for five months when Lyanna's latest movie came out.

(When Jon had been younger, he'd been somewhat disappointed his mother wasn't in the kind of movies his school friends watched, because he would've liked to brag, every once in a while; and when he'd complained Lyanna had only laughed and said something about _true art_. Cue almost ten years later; and Jon was terribly regretful that Lyanna hadn't done a mainstream flick since _Winter Rose – _since mainstream flicks are just about the only things he knew _for sure_ his friends would _never_ watch.

Life can be_ such_ a bitch.)

Jon _didn't_ know what they're going to watch at first – he really, really didn't, or he would've make up some excuse not to come, because it was just _weird_. He didn't even glance at the name on the ticket, because he was too busy making out with his girlfriend to care, _thankyouverymuch_; and so it's only when the film started and Jon saw the title card that he found himself thinking, _why does this title seem familiar?_ and then, _oh, wonderful_.

Still, he didn't say a thing and sat in silence because Val looked interested and the film actually not that bad. So everything was going as well as it could be expected until about an hour into the film – when the grumpy psychiatrist and the tough-but-disturbed heroine met on her brother's grave and shared a moment, and then a drink, and then…

"I can't watch this."

"What?" Val asked. "Did you say something?"

Jon turned to look at Val, doing his best to ignore the screen, where… "Yeah," he told her, trying to keep his voice low. "I _really_ have to go."

"What?" she repeated. "You said you were free all afternoon."

"Something came up," Jon said. _Something like my mother having a _sex_ scene_. "I'm sorry, I'll be back as soon as I can."

_Like, when this thing is over_.

He made for the exit, and called Lyanna.

"Hey kid," she answered, sounding more unnaturally chirpy than she has _any_ right to be.

"Hey mum," Jon said. "So, I just watched _Spire_, like, five minutes ago."

He hated that Lyanna didn't even, you know, _apologize_. "Oh," she said, without even bothering trying to sound understanding. "And what did you think?"

_I'm not saying it if she doesn't first_, Jon decides. Some things just shouldn't be talked about, _ever_.

"The dubbing is really weird," is all he said, trying to sound like he's discussing the weather.

"I know," Lyanna continued, still disgustingly cheerful. "I can pass you the original version if you want. We can watch it together."

"Did you just –"Jon began; and that was when he realized that she was having him on. "You are a bad person," he told his mother. "Really bad. You should've warned me, I'm traumatized."

"You should've, I don't know, watched the trailer and seen the rating?"

_This is the last time I let Val pick the movie_, he found himself thinking. _The last_.


	5. The time Lyanna told Jon about Uncle Ned

**5. the time Lyanna didn't want Jon to go to university – no, seriously**

"UVA," his mother's voice was disgusted. She was staring at Jon's acceptance letter as if it were a particularly ugly bug. "Seriously, Jon?"

He just stared back at her. "It's the best public university of the country," he told her. "Well, second best, I wasn't going to go to California."

Lyanna didn't hate California, and neither did private education. It simply brought…embarrassing memories back to light, memories that were better buried. Jon usually found it hilarious, but here he was, throwing her words back at her.

"And yet there are so many other countries on Earth," she told him. "Like, the one we're living in _now_."

Jon let out a sigh. "You know, this is where you hug me and say how proud you are," he suggested, almost hopeful.

His mother gave him an eye-roll. "And does your choice of country _and_ state have nothing to do with my idiotic brother _living_ there?"

"Uncle Brandon said we could see each other all the time and – wait." Jon paused, frowning. "Wait. I thought Uncle Brandon lived in Maryland?"

(Or at least, he had a _house_ there, but Jon knew he spends a few months every year traveling. Uncle Brandon's living situation, Jon had learned early on, depended_ a lot_ on how much he was getting along with Ashara at the moment. She kicked him out every three months or so, and whenever they were off Brandon just took a plane and… stuff. Jon had once asked Lyanna was exactly Brandon _did_ for a living, but she'd just laughed it off.)

"My brother Eddard," Lyanna explained, and Jon looks up at her.

"Your brother Eddard the lawyer – the one I'm not actually sure _exists_?"

"Oh," she said. "Believe me, he does."

Once, when he'd been about ten years old, Jon had asked Uncle Brandon why he and Lyanna had different last names, and got a complicated explanation about a falling out between the Stark siblings after their father's death. For Lyanna, a popular teen actress, the whole situation had resulted in an emancipation; an unexpected pregnancy; a legal change of name; and, finally and her moving to the other side of the country – and, eventually, of the world.

So, yeah. Jon's never met Uncle Eddard.

(Lyanna had also _another_ brother, Uncle Ben; but of his existence Jon was sure – unlike the mysterious Eddard. Benjen lived in Canada, sent pictures and emails, and visited every once in a while. Eddard, instead, was a ghost.)

"Okay," Jon told her. "So what?"

"What, what?"

She looked mad, Jon thought. At Brandon, probably, who must have known… but Jon was glad for it. "Are you never going to talk him again? Do I really have to go my whole life without ever meeting Eddard?"

"Ugh. Ned," Lyanna said.

Jon frowned. "What?"

"Ned," Lyanna explained. "Not Eddard. We call him Ned."

He had to pause for a moment at that, trying to figure out how you actually get 'Ned' from 'Eddard'. _Same as how you get Bobby from Robert, I guess_, Jon told himself. "Right, _Ned_. Are you ever going to talk again?"

"I don't know," she said, sounding almost… frail, and it scared Jon to death, because his mother was usually the strongest person he knew. "It was pretty bad, Jon."

_What?_ he wanted to ask. _Your father's death? The fight?_ "Did it have anything to do with – with me?" Jon asked; and Lyanna flinched.

"Of course no. What the hell gave you the idea?"

"I don't know," Jon said. "I mean, my being born. Maybe my dad?"

"Oh, kid," Lyanna actually looked guilty; and, when she moved to hug him, Jon actually let her do it instead of moving away mumbling things about _not a child, anymore, mum!_, like he usually did. "It wasn't your fault."

"If you _really_ want to know," she said, whatever temporary moment of weakness already passed. "It was Ned's fault for being a stuck-up idiot, and you'd already been born for a while. And he has no idea who your father is."

Jon grinned at her. "Wait, you mean the father you've always said you don't know who it is?"

She gave him a pretend glare. "You know, Jon, I think this is enough sharing for today."

"Okay," he told her. "But I'm still moving to Virginia this summer, so you might want to call Ned and warn him."

Lyanna bit her lip at that, clearly picturing how much things would change from now on – and Jon knew he had her. "Or maybe you can just move back, too?"

He must have sounded as hopeful as he felt, because Lyanna laughed. "Like this wasn't your idea from the start. And Brandon's too, I bet."

Jon knew better than to deny. "So, are you going to call him?" He didn't really know if he meant Brandon or Ned, and she clearly didn't know either.

"No, wait," Lyanna said. "I have a better idea."

"You look a lot like him, you know," she began, and Jon wondered where this was going. "Ned. So, this is what's gonna happen – I'm not calling him, you're not calling him. We're just going to visit when we arrive, it'll be fun to watch."

_Jon_ had a better idea, now. "Do I really look like him?" he asked; and Lyanna nodded.

"Okay, how about _I_ go visit, then" Jon said. "He won't know who I am – so, when I see him, I should just ho 'Hey Ned, I'm your long lost son?"

Lyanna didn't even thought about it. "You'll need a camera," she said. "To take a picture of his face."

"Promise?"

* * *

><p><strong>The end<strong> (for now).

I'll probably add another chapter to this whenever I get an idea/prompt for another modern!AU involving the Starks, so watch this story if you're interested. Also, Jon might just show up on Ned's doorstep and call him _Dad_, if I ever get around to write that scene.


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